Read A Dangerous Affair for Free Online

phone to her other ear. "I'll put that in my diary."
    "Make sure you write in big letters," Samantha teased, "so you can read them without your glasses." She laughed to herself. "I'm serious about your birthday. We'll rent a limo in Miami and go club hopping. I'll take you to a Chippendales show."
    "Alan would never go for that."
    "What your hubby doesn't know won't hurt him."
    "It's not the strippers," said Jamie. She grabbed plates from the cabinet and set the table. Her neck hurt from craning it against the phone. "He's strict about other people staying over."
    "Forget about him. This is your birthday."
    "I should probably do something simple at home," said Jamie.
    "Why don't you come up here? We can see a show. Go out for Sushi. We'll have a girls' weekend in New York."
    "I can't afford it right now."
    "I'll buy your ticket. Call it an early birthday present."
    Jamie set the silverware by the dinner plates. "Alan won't let me."
    "Since when do you need his permission? It's one weekend, Jamie. You deserve it."
    Jamie paced back and forth. "I can't."
    "Why not?"
    "Alan needs me at home. Work's been stressful for him lately."
    "Alan can survive one weekend without you."
    Jamie caught the headlights in the front bay window as Alan's cruiser turned into the driveway. "He's home. I have to go."
    "I'm serious, Jamie. Don't be a stranger. You're going to have fun on your birthday if I have to come down there and steal you away myself."
    Jamie heard the door open and hung up. "You're home early," she announced as the sheriff emerged from the laundry room entrance.
    Blanchart hugged his wife before he removed his duty belt and hung it in the closet. "Smells good," he said. He followed Jamie to the kitchen. "I'm starving."
    Jamie stirred the pot with her back to him. "How was your day?"
    "Predictable."
    "Did you make the funeral arrangements?" Jamie asked over her shoulder.
    "It's taken care of."
    "How is Deputy Carter's wife holding up?"
    Blanchart rubbed her shoulders. "You feel tense. You should take a hot bath tonight."
    Jamie turned down the burner and dipped a ladle in the stew. "How's your hand?"
    Blanchart kissed her nape. "Better, now that you're here."
    "I have salad to put out."
    "Leave it."
    "I thought you were hungry?"
    "I ate a big lunch."
    Jamie turned around and kissed him on the cheek. "Dinner's ready, silly."
    Blanchart checked the caller ID list on the house phone. "Who called?"
    "Samantha."
    "Your stripper friend from New York?"
    "She's a dancer."
    "What did she want?"
    "She wanted to talk about her new boyfriend."
    "What else?"
    "Nothing. She asked about my birthday. She wants to come down and spend the weekend with me."
    "What did you tell her?"
    "I told her I'd talk to you about it."
    Alan dipped the wooden spoon in the stew and licked it. The broth was bland. The potatoes overcooked. The house was clean, but his wife smelled dirty. "What did you do to your hair?"
    "I added some highlights."
    "You look cheap."
    "I can take them out."
    Blanchart glared at Jamie with piercing eyes. "You can't undo a mistake like that."
    "The color wears out."
    "So does my patience."
    Jamie cowered from her husband. "I'm sorry... I just thought it might be nice to try something different. I didn't think you would notice so much."
    Blanchart jammed the spoon in the stew. "Then why bother to mess with your hair at all?" He looked out the kitchen window and scowled at the pool boy with sandy blond hair and an easy smile. "Who are you trying to impress?"
    "No one."
    Blanchart closed the window shade. Veins twitched in his forehead. His eyes were red with fury. "If you're lying to me..."
    "I'm not," Jamie insisted. "I swear."
    Blanchart cupped a clammy hand on Jamie's mouth and squeezed her face hard enough to control her head movement without bruising her cheeks. He shoved her against the hot oven door. "Your appearance reflects on me. God knows what the hell you've been doing in this house all day besides playing with your hair, but